


When I Look Into Your Eyes, It's Over

by Fitzrove



Series: Wyoming [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Bottom Morse, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Freckles, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Summer in Wyoming, Threesome, it's still 1968, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19029262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrove/pseuds/Fitzrove
Summary: Peter and Hope look for freckles.Midquel/missing scene to 'Soft Like Summer Rain'.





	When I Look Into Your Eyes, It's Over

“You haven't been tanning all that much”, Hope pointed out, one night when they were in bed - or rather, getting there, having finally decided that sly looks and thinly-veiled innuendos weren’t going to cut it for tonight. (They didn’t, most nights, because once they got started, it was hard to stop. It was a maelstrom Morse was very happy to fall into.)

Morse smiled sheepishly, his ears tingling. He didn't know if what Hope said was an insult or just an observation. Or, well, he did _rationally_ , but still.

He hadn’t tanned, he’d noticed it himself. But the way Hope said it made it a _thing_ , and being _noticed_ like that made Morse’s heart flutter. It didn’t particularly lessen the feeling when Hope lifted a hand to his cheek to move a finger along his cheekbone.

“That's how it goes with the English”, Peter said from behind him, leaning towards Morse to press his lips against the back of his neck. Morse scoffed.

“You're English too”, he muttered. Peter stroked along his arms, hands steady and warm, before finally grabbing Morse's wrists to slip his fingers underneath the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Not ginger, though”, Peter said. “And I wonder if you've got those sun-spots everywhere.”

“Only one way to find out”, Hope said, and then there were smaller, softer hands at his collar.

Morse drew in a long breath as Hope undid the first button, pressing her hand against his collarbone the moment she got his shirt open. Peter pressed a slow, gentle kiss behind his ear, and before Morse knew it, his fingers were in his hair.

“I’m - _ah_ \- pretty sure that you won’t find any there”, Morse said, practically unable to turn his head, but trying his very best to catch a glimpse of Peter anyway. Hope smiled at the fussiness, pushing Morse back by his chest as she kept touching him, hands sneaking under his shirt to brush against his shoulders. It made Morse shiver, even though the day was anything but cold. The fact that he was in bed, squeezed between Hope and Peter, certainly didn’t cool things down.

“I know, I know”, Peter said, but didn’t let go, rather pulling Morse deeper into his lap to properly bury his face against him, hot breath on the nape of his neck. “Doesn’t matter. Your curls are nice enough on their own.”

“And I did find some”, Hope said softly, pulling his shirt off one shoulder to get it bare. “I had no idea you had this much. Clearly haven’t paid enough attention.”

“Blame Peter”, Morse said dryly. “For making me take off my shirt out on the fields. Going around in just a vest is hardly decent.”

Peter snorted at that, and Morse let out a slightly exasperated sigh. Fine, he _had_ ended up finding the way Peter had stared at his arms quite amusing, in the end, and it _had_ been more comfortable to stay on his horse when he wasn’t sweating his skin off, at least not as badly.

Hope looked up at Peter, her lips ghosting over Morse’s shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.

“Did he, now”, Hope said, and the chastising Morse had hoped for just _wasn’t there_. Bloody hell, it looked like Hope was enjoying the thought just as much as Peter had enjoyed looking at him, after he’d finally obliged.

“Hey, couldn’t have him sweating through his shirt”, Peter said. “Come on, he was wearing _white_. You know what happens when fabric like that gets wet. It’s just not modest.”

“Oh, honey, how chivalrous of you”, Hope said. “And you’d know all about modesty.”

“He just wanted a better view”, Morse complained, but it was hard to keep track of his train of thought when Peter was holding him close, _half-hard against him,_ and almost absentmindedly stroking his hair. Hope finally kissed him, on his shoulder, gentle but a tad sharp. Not love-bite-sharp, but there was a certain edge to it that made his breath hitch.

“And what if I did?” Peter said, reaching around him to undo the rest of the buttons. Hope was breathing against him, pulling at his sleeves, and it was _good_.

“No harm in showing off what you’ve got, with a pretty thing like you. Should be a crime to cover all that up”, Peter said.

There was a wanton edge to his voice, and it was growing increasingly difficult for Morse to stay in Peter’s lap, when they _both_ were more than a little uncomfortable in their trousers. Trying to move only made it worse for them both, but Morse shifted a bit anyway, making Peter snicker desperately into his ear.

They were all terribly close to each other, Hope’s hands on him and Peter’s arms around him and them both kissing him, making his face and neck burn up.

Hope finally got his shirt off, pushing Peter back a bit to pull it out from between them. The feeling of Peter’s chest pressing against Morse's almost-bare back - there was still the matter of the vest - and his actually-bare shoulders was _good_. Peter seemed to think so, too, his slightly rough hands growing more impatient, slipping down Morse’s sides.

“You've got big hands”, Hope murmured, taking one of his hands into hers to get a better look, lifting it to her lips. She planted a small kiss on the back of his hand, lips soft and breath warm, and Morse felt like his brain was about to turn into cotton. He leaned back against Peter, who still hadn’t stopped touching him. Peter was still at least half-pretending to be polite about it, but he was obviously getting more needy than he cared to admit, hands getting awfully close to slipping under Morse’s belt. _Good._

“Can’t believe you have freckles on your _fingers_ ”, Hope said. Apparently, she couldn’t get enough of pressing her lips against Morse’s bare, flushed skin, kissing the inside of his wrist and the palm of his hand and stroking his fingers gently before pressing his hand against her cheek. Morse held on, and even though the unreleased tension in his _every bloody muscle_ almost made him _shake_ , he tried to be gentle and patient with the way he caressed Hope’s cheek a bit clumsily before leaning in to kiss her.

“Hope. Let’s switch”, Peter said, and the slight strain in his voice made Morse smile.

“The back of my head not good enough for you?” Morse asked, eyebrows climbing high.

“No, I like it alright”, Peter said. “Just in a… bit of a hard place right now.”

“I see”, Hope said. She pressed a kiss on Morse’s temple before reaching an arm around him to brush her fingers against Peter’s face.

“Be a darling and get his undershirt off for me first”, Hope said, and she’d barely got the words out before Peter was already tugging the vest out of Morse’s trousers, hiking it up to let Hope press her hands against his stomach.

“I’m right here”, Morse said. He was hot and bothered, alright, but he wasn’t _that_ far gone yet. He was still perfectly capable of undressing himself.

“I know, honey”, Hope said as Peter pulled the vest off over his head. Morse was thankful for the hot day and Hope’s warm hands and Peter’s chest against him. The fact that _they_ were still completely dressed made him feel filthy, and he loved it. They wanted him so much that waiting wasn’t an option, and it made Morse’s heart beat loud.

“The treat tastes sweeter when you unwrap it yourself”, Hope said, and actually _climbed in his lap_. Morse and Peter both let out a yelp, Peter’s probably a bit more agitated.

“Oh, shut up. I’m not that heavy”, Hope said, grinning. Morse felt Peter squirm under him, letting out a long sigh, probably considering if he should just give up and give into what he was after without pretending to have an ounce of self-control anymore. Morse smiled, already revelling in his imminent victory.

“I can assure you it’s not that”, Morse said. “But I do feel sorry for Peter’s belt.”

“Just get up, the both of you, _please_ ”, Peter whined. Hope leaned in to run her hands over Morse’s chest, looking a bit thoughtful, but Morse didn’t get a chance to ask what it was about before she leaned in to press a kiss on his chest, probably just over his heart. At least it felt like it, when all Morse could hear and feel was his heart thrumming in his ears and Peter panting against him.

“ _Hope_ ”, Peter said. She grinned, before finally getting up and letting Morse scramble off Peter’s lap.

“There”, Hope said, crawling around Morse to take Peter’s place, sitting on her knees and leaning against the headboard. She palmed Peter through his trousers on the way very accidentally, and the choked gasp Peter let out made Morse smile. The bloody tease deserved it.

“Come here, Morse”, Hope said, and Morse did, leaning back against her. Her hair tingled the back of his neck, and Morse closed his eyes for a moment. Hope’s hands trailed along his shoulders and down his back before dipping into the small of his back, wrapping around his waist to hold on.

When Morse opened his eyes, he realised Peter was staring at him, lips parted and face red. He raised an eyebrow.

“Bloody hell, Morse. You don’t _get_ to wear a belt when you’re looking like a… like some…”

Peter trailed off, and when Morse just tilted his head at that, he shoved a frustrated hand on his thigh, his other hand trying to get Morse’s belt open. When it finally came off with a clink, after a while of amusingly hasty tugging, Peter just pulled Morse’s trousers and pants down with one swift yank.

“ _Peter_ ”, Morse said, but the chastisement had little effect. Peter looked up at him, his dark lashes fluttering on _purpose_.

“What? ‘M still looking for freckles”, Peter mumbled, before leaning down to press a kiss on his thigh. Hope kept her arms wrapped around Morse to keep him still, her chin on his shoulder, but her eyes were fixed on Peter. Peter clearly liked the attention, had probably been his bloody intention all along, but Morse didn’t mind all that much when he felt him breathing against his thigh and pressing his sharp nose against his skin as he leaned in further and then -

“ _Jesus_ ”, Morse muttered, trying not to push his hips further to get more of the warm, wet sensation that Peter gave him when he put his mouth on him, starting out with a teasing lick but the just going for it like he couldn’t get enough. He used his hands, too.

Luckily, Hope was still holding on to Morse. It was probably for the best - he didn’t want to end up kicking anyone off the bed.

“I don’t know how he got so good at sucking cock”, Hope remarked in Morse’s ear. “You must’ve been very inspiring, back in Oxford.”

“Downright breathtaking”, Morse said dryly, trying to hold on to the slightest sliver of wit that he might’ve still had left in his brain. Hope laughed and Peter looked up at him with his brows furrowed, almost _offended_. Morse gently ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, the dark curls soft between his fingers.

Morse couldn't stop staring at how Peter's lips moved, light for a second and then pressing on him hard right after. He wasn't even halfway there when Peter pulled back with an indecent pop, bloody _licking his red lips_ for show right after. He didn't sit up, though, instead nuzzling Morse's thigh again, his cheek just as sweaty as Morse was.

“Peter, god”, Morse said. “Don't stop.”

“Already did”, Peter said, looking up at him, breathless and _blushing_. Hope let out a surprised moan-laugh against Morse's ear, biting her lip to silence herself, but that only made both Peter and Morse tense up even more.

“Bloody hell. Gotta have you now”, Peter said, scrambling up to lean against Morse, pressing his whole body against him so that Morse couldn't practically move at all, completely undressed and caught between Hope and Peter, _neither of whom had even removed their shirts_. And Morse liked it more than he cared to admit.

“This is unfair. Just take _something_ off, _please_ ”, Morse still grumbled, even though he was being kissed on his neck and earlobe and lips and cheek and forehead, and he didn't always know _who_ it was by the feeling alone. Peter didn't bite, that much he knew, but neither did Hope all the time. It was so gentle and soft and frustrating that he was pretty sure he'd go mad.

Hope chuckled into his ear, and Morse heard some shuffling behind him, her knees shifting against the mattress.

“This alright?” she asked, pressing a piece of very wet, very smooth fabric in his open hand.

It took Morse a second to realise what it was, and when he did, he felt his whole bloody face and neck turn bright red. _Hope really had no shame_.

“Better, at least”, Morse managed to choke out. He had no idea what to do with the knickers Hope had given him, and now Peter was staring at them, too.

“Rude”, Peter said, trying to sneak his knee between Morse's thighs very unsubtly as he did. “Hope, babe, you can't just -”

“Hey, he was the one who asked”, Hope said. “I'm just being polite to our beloved. A wife like that is a blessing, you know? That's what they say.”

“Right”, Morse gasped out, and solved his embarrassing problem by just tossing the knickers off the bed. They wouldn't need them for a while.

“Pete”, Hope said, lips still against Morse’s cheek, but her eyes were fixed on her husband. Peter leaned over Morse’s shoulder to kiss her on the cheek, before tilting his head to give her a proper one on her lips.

“What”, Peter said, a bit out of it, most likely because Morse’s hips were flush against his, and Peter’s trousers alone weren’t enough to stop them from feeling the heat.

“This needs to come off”, Morse said, tugging impatiently at Peter’s shirt, running his hands over his chest.

Peter drew in a long breath, getting even closer to feel Morse’s hands through the fabric, like a bloody cat looking to be petted. He was beautiful like that, his heartbeat strong under Morse’s palms, and the way he closed his eyes to press a kiss on Morse’s shoulder and just breathe him in made it difficult to focus.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself”, Hope said.

“Alright, alright”, Peter said. “Didn't know you were in such a hurry.”

“Maybe we should give you a little incentive to get things off”, Hope said. “Morse, honey. Would you turn around for me?”

“Of course”, Morse said, pushing Peter away (he let out a protesting yelp) and turning around. Hope smiled at him before grabbing his shoulders, the feeling of her soft hands on his bare skin like heaven.

“I was hoping you’d help me out a bit”, Hope said slyly. “If you're… down.”

She was looking at him, her eyes twinkling, and it took Morse a moment to realise she was staring at his lips. After a second, Hope reached out a hand to press it on his face, running her thumb over his mouth, parting his lips gently before leaving it to rest on his chin. It made Morse’s face burn even hotter, and they were probably both looking pretty dazed, as he heard Peter chuckle at them.

Morse couldn’t really say anything to that, so he lifted his hand to run his fingers over the back of Hope’s hand. She smiled, and it was so sweet and tempting that Morse just wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, pushing her against the headboard as considerately as he could manage.

Hope enjoyed it terribly, pulling at his hair and biting him and spreading her legs the tiniest bit to let him get close, to let him feel her thighs through the soft fabric of her dress. She pushed him away for a second, and Morse didn’t realise why until she pulled her brassiere out of her sleeve. He couldn’t help but concentrate on the result an awful lot, pressing against her to feel her soft breasts against his chest.

“Whoa”, Hope said, stroking the back of his neck, looking up at him with her devilishly doe-like eyes, still _beaming_ at him. “Should’ve taken you for a firecracker from the beginning, sweetheart. Making me burn up just as bad as you’ve made our Pete.”

Morse turned his head to look, and Peter’s expression changed from vaguely turned on to positively feverish the moment he saw Morse’s face. He’d managed to get his clothes off at last. About time. Morse raised an eyebrow, looking back at Hope.

“I think you’ll have to kiss me up sometime later”, Hope said. “Poor Pete’s going to lose his mind otherwise.”

“True”, Morse said, giving Hope one last peck on the cheek before turning back around. Even though their little show had been just something to get Peter worked up, for now, Morse fully intended on doing what he’d promised one day soon. He was much too curious not to, and besides, very much a considerate fellow. At least when people deserved it.

“Alright”, Peter said. “Think we've had enough of your stalling.”

And then there were hands on him, hot and insistent, and Peter kissed him and pressed his firm body against his. He was strong and wiry and _very much in a hurry_. Morse was left panting and shaky all over, but that was just the beginning.

He kissed Peter, tasting himself on his lips, and Peter made a low sound at that. He shoved Morse down on the bed, got his legs spread, and didn't waste time on any particular courtesies after that. Just a quick smear of vaseline from the jar Hope had very helpfully passed on to Peter, his slim fingers inside Morse and a hand on his hip to make him loosen up, and then they were good to go.

The first thrust opened Morse up, making him cry out as Peter sheathed himself inside him. The sound made the look on Peter's face grow softer, still smirking and flushed, but also gentle.

“Wait”, Hope said, before they had the chance to get any further. There was something very wicked in her voice, and Morse soon understood why.

“Stay still”, she said, and it was an order.

“Christ”, Peter muttered, leaning down over Morse to caress his cheek and jaw and the side of his neck.

“Move, Peter, _please”,_ Morse said. He’d really rather avoid begging, especially since he knew Peter needed it _just as much_ , but the situation was getting desperate. Peter straightened his back and looked down at him, still smiling, even though that kind of restraint probably took a lot of effort. It was insufferable.

“Oh, poor baby”, Hope said, and then there were soft hands on his face, and Hope was leaning down to kiss him and pet him and make him relax. And Morse did, even though his skin was still on fire. There was something terribly comforting in being held and touched and _being cared for_ , and he could’ve probably spent all eternity like that, _if he only wasn't so hard and desperate_ that he’d probably soon faint from all the blood in his body rushing into his crotch. Bloody, bloody _hell_.

After what felt like forever, Hope sat up and leaned forward to kiss Peter, long and deep. That seemed to finally satisfy her.

“Go ahead”, she said, backing down and starting to take her dress off, and Morse barely had time to process it before Peter was pressing him against the bed to have him, rough and fast.

Peter carefully kept his hands away from Morse's cock, but practically every other part of him was touched and stroked and kissed. Hope helped out with that, taking care of his legs where they were stretched out on each side of Peter's hips, almost _trembling_ because of how terribly, thoroughly taken he was.

“You feel so good", Peter muttered. “Like bloody heaven.”

Morse stared at him with wide eyes, clinging to him and breathing hard. A gasp was drawn out of him, then another, and so it went on as if it always had. There was nothing in the world except for Morse, each inch of his skin lit up with something so good and deep that it went to his bones, and Peter and Hope with their gentle hands on him.

Peter was so far gone that it didn't take him long to finish inside Morse with a groan. The sound alone was enough to make Morse burn up, but he just simply _wasn’t getting_ the attention he so desperately craved. Now, both his arse _and_ his cock felt tender and sore.

“Morse, darling”, Peter mumbled, kissing him one more time before pulling out and leaving him a mess. “Jesus Christ. I love you.”

That made Morse let out an almost-pained gasp. It felt so good it actually hurt. Hope leaned down to kiss him as well.

“Good boy. I'll be more than glad to have Peter's sloppy seconds”, she said. “You ready?”

“I'd say so”, Morse muttered, and then Hope was straddling him and taking him in, sweet and warm and soaking wet.

“Morse, love, you’re such a sweetheart. So good for us”, Hope mumbled. It wasn’t anything new to Morse at this point, but it _still_ made his heart ache in the best possible way.

“You’re beautiful”, Morse said, out of breath. “Hope. _God_.”

Where Peter had been rushed, Hope was slow, her hips rocking in firm circles against him. She wasn’t doing it for him, but for herself and her pleasure, and the feeling of being _wanted_ like that made Morse’s heart beat fast.

“Alright, sit up”, Hope said, after a while. Morse managed, with a little bit of help from Peter, who’d crawled behind his back and helped prop him up, letting Morse rest his head against his chest.

“Wish you could see yourself right now”, Peter said, leaning in until his lips were almost touching Morse’s ear. Hope took advantage of the way Morse’s mouth fell open at that by pressing a kiss on his bottom lip, then his chin, her hands trailing down his chest.

“You’re a mess, Morse. A hot mess”, Peter said. “You two, I swear. The most beautiful thing in the world.”

That made Morse shiver in the best possible way, and he was _so close_ again, but he got a slap on the thigh to keep him from slipping over the edge. Hope smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, biting a bit.

“Pete, love”, Hope said. “Hold him in place for me.”

Morse yelped as Peter obliged, and Hope tilted her hips to take him deeper, really giving him no break. She was grinding against his hip bone, her nails digging into his shoulders, but yet it was the low, appreciative groan from Peter (or maybe the way he was trying to hold it back) that finished her off, made her gasp and clench and shudder around him.

“What do you think, Morse?” Hope asked, still moving, though with considerably less effort now that she was just basking in the afterglow. “Should we let you finish?”

“ _Please_ ”, Morse said. It wasn’t as if he could turn back now, and the way Peter kept stroking his hair was driving him mad.

“You’ve been very good tonight, doll. Come on”, Peter said, voice low in his ear, _hand trailing down his back and slipping to cup a buttock_. “Let’s hear it.”

It was embarrassingly quick, but it was incredibly satisfying to _finally_ get there, to get the ten seconds of complete blissfulness of his mind going blank and Peter and Hope touching him gently, letting him know how much they loved him.

 

His mouth felt dry afterwards, and the first thing he did after Hope got up from his lap was asking Peter to fetch a glass of water in addition to the usual towel. (It was his turn to do so tonight, and Morse was pretty glad for it - he didn’t know if he would’ve been capable of walking so soon after something like that.)

When Peter got back, both Morse and Hope had cooled down enough to peel off the covers in anticipation. Hope wasn’t even particularly exhausted - how, Morse didn’t know, after a ride like that - so she spent a good while nibbling at Morse’s neck and going over the new and fading scratches and love-bites he had on him. There weren’t terribly much, but with how hurried they could sometimes get, she still managed to find quite a lot of them.

Morse got his water, and after they’d cleaned up, they slipped under the covers, Peter in the middle as he most often was. He leaned back against the pillows to open his arms, to let Hope and Morse snuggle up to him.

“I’m not getting on a horse tomorrow”, Morse said. “Not before noon.”

“You don’t have to”, Hope said, reaching around Peter to put a gentle hand in Morse’s hair. Morse smiled at the touch, letting out a content sigh. Peter turned his head, lips ghosting over Morse’s cheek.

“We’ll have to drive to town anyway, to go to the grocer’s”, Peter said. Morse felt every word against his skin, and it made the thought of kissing Peter again terribly tempting, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to scramble up the poor man’s brain again. Not yet, at least.

He was quick to change his mind when Hope looked at him with her eyes twinkling, just barely tilting her head as if throwing Morse a challenge. Morse raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but smile at her when she gave him the slightest nod. Alright, then.

“Should probably bring Cheryl along, if it’s not too hot out. She likes shopping”, Peter added, unaware of the plot that was being constructed against him.

Morse nodded at that, before finally stealing the kiss he wanted. Peter let out a muffled sound, Hope giggled, and Morse felt something very warm bloom in his heart. Especially since he knew he was going to wake up to that same warmth the next morning, and nothing was going to change that.

**Author's Note:**

> This just... happened. XD
> 
> My first explicit fic ever, yay! I ramped up the rating because apparently undressing Morse in graphic detail is such an erotic description that it warrants a 'Extremely Unsuitable for Individuals Under 18' warning. (I'm just trying to be safe, alright.) Besides, once I had decided on that rating, I had the opportunity to take some liberties I wouldn't have dared to otherwise. Lmao.
> 
> I know commenting on explicit fic sometimes feels awkward, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Kudos is appreciated as well! I'm super happy about the positive response to 'Soft Like Summer Rain' and this AU in general, thank you so much to everybody <3
> 
> ++ Title from "I'm Into You" by Jennifer Lopez.


End file.
